Nightfall
by Shiroi Raiden
Summary: A story about a boy caught between two sides, a Dark Lord who plans to use this boy's confused state and two tiny little details he hadn't predicted: That this boy would teach him about love- and his own possessiveness. LV//HP


_Disclaimer:_

I'm in no way claiming ownership over Harry Potter or anything related to the books. I'm simply writing a fanfiction that I'm making no money with.

_Summary:_

A story about a boy caught between two sides, a Dark Lord who plans to use this boy's confused state and two tiny little details he hadn't predicted: That this boy would teach him about love- and his own possessiveness. LV/HP

_Foreword:_

Don't we all know those good old stories were Harry finds out the Light Side isn't light, Dumbledore has just used him, Ron and Hermione aren't his friends, his parents aren't his parents, Voldemort is good (at least to him)...? Lately, I've found myself obsessed with those stories. So, to countermeasure my obsession, I've created this: A story in which Voldemort wants to trick Harry by telling him some of the lies above. But unfortunately, he becomes fond of his enemy and the lie spirals out of control...

_Warnings:_

**BoyxBoy love (LV/HP)**, semi OOC Voldemort (doing my best to keep him as much IC as possible) and this story will disregard some cannon events of all books.

_Wanted! I need a reliable beta who has the expierience, the time and the wish to help me. Anyone willing to help please pm me!_

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Nightfall

Prologue

xxx

Thick, impenetrable fog surrounded the old manor surrounded by tall hedges and an imposing iron gate. Although the castle was beautiful and could have been out from a fairytale, the obscurity of that mansion could not be denied, especially with the moonlight illuminating the house weakly.

Maybe that manor had that aura because of the dark stones it was made of, or because of the perfect shape it was in, despite its age. Nobody knew exactly in the village half an hour away from it, yet no one wanted to find out either.

People stayed away from it, but the gossip going around about it in the small village was another matter. Like always when people were too curious, had too much time or just wanted to be important for once, they tried to fill their afternoons with chitchat.

And that house was perfect to spin the darkest, most sinister stories about. Especially because its residents were rumoured to be unbelievably rich and beautiful, but were never seen by any of the villagers. To add to that, the air around the manor had become even heavier lately, like darkness had chosen to completely lodge itself in that house. Well, that were a few stories told by noisy people anyway.

In reality, the truth about Malfoy Manor was even more vicious.

In said estate, in one of the countless hallways it possessed, was Draco Malfoy. The sixteen year old boy stood perfectly still, wanting to hear even the slightest sound.

His grey eyes were narrowed and his white blond hair, now not slicked back like during the day, fell in his face. Occasionally, some strands would tickle his skin, then he would swiftly remove them, with an annoyed gesture that was completely untypical for any Malfoy.

What was the reason why the heir to such a wealthy, sophistic pure-blooded family stood in some hall in the middle of the night? Well, it had to do with his father's guest. It wasn't every day that the Lord his family served visited any of his followers, but he had just returned from the dead, so Draco wasn't completely sure what was considered normal for the Dark Lord.

Yet things going like this wasn't how the boy had imagined the resurrection of the most feared man since centuries. When he was little, he had never questioned why he had to swear loyalty to some fallen Lord. His father had told him he had to and that had been the end of the story.

He had wanted to make his parents proud. As a son and an heir, he had to be perfect. Nothing less was to be expected of a Malfoy. One had to be rich, elegant, beautiful and powerful to deserve that name. So naturally, the blond had always thought their master had to be even more perfect.

However, what he had seen one week ago, when he had arrived at their Manor, wasn't a stunning leader, but a monster. Someone who had knowing eyes which could pierce through anything, a barely human appearance and a powerful aura that surrounded and suffocated everyone who came too near.

His Lord was nothing like the boy had pictured him. But despite that, he was sublime in another sort of way, one that demanded absolute obedience. And although Draco had always been prepared to serve, had not felt anything when he had been taught the killing curse one year ago, right now he was scared.

Hadn't he banned any emotion long ago? Feelings like love or fear were unnecessary, reserved for the weak and the mudbloods. Perhaps Potter and his little friends had to be scared, but not him.

Still, there was that uneasiness that had begun to spread inside of Draco like a virus, a hesitant little whisper that grew louder and louder. ,What if you are not enough? Maybe soon, the monster had enough of you and your clan and then? Do you really think you are worth anything to that beast?'

Spreading like poison, those suppressed doubts were surfacing, although the blond did his best to ignore them. Hadn't he already decided that he had no problem with killing a blood traitor or a mudblood? ,But what if you see them, right at the moment the curse is formed by your lips? When you can make out their terrified eyes, when you realise they are humans, can you really do it?'

Of course he could! They weren't worth as much as his family's honour. He would show them all, his mother who thought he wasn't ready yet to become a Deatheater, his father who claimed he was too spoiled, too childish and of course Potthead and his idiot troupe.

Especially Potter, who always glanced at him with his damn green eyes, who looked at him as if he wanted to say that Draco wasn't really evil, that he could become one of the light side if he wanted to, he would show. Every day, the desire rose in him to see that good for nothing hero at his knees, begging at the moment of his death, his eyes broken and not so smug anymore.

Who could Harry Potter save? No one. He was nothing compared to their Lord, but he always managed to escape, just like a disgusting bacteria.

Just as Draco snarled- the memory of his enemy always angered him- his sensitive ears picked up the faint sound of footsteps, muffled by a carpet.

The bureau! That was were his father had brought his Lord to talk about something so important that neither his mother nor he were allowed to know what it all was about. Following the noise, the boy tiptoed forward, carefully avoiding the Chinese vase Narcissa Malfoy was so fond of.

Her son hated that thing, with its violet flower pattern that didn't even move, it looked like something Muggle would buy. Resounding with the footsteps, the clonk of his father's cane could be heard. So Lucius Malfoy was nervous. Others may have never noticed the subtle signs, but Draco knew how to establish his parents' state of mood fairly well by now. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named knew too, the blond was certain of that, even if he had other methods to find out. A nervous shudder passed through his body as he remembered Snape's words.

"He knows, he always knows..."

Together with the distinct smell of burnt herbs and Snape's sharp look, that sentence he had never managed to forget. Severus Snape- although he was his father's friend and a Deatheater, the teenager couldn't understand that man.

Just as Dumbledore's smile, Potter's compassionate eyes and his Lord's power, he was another one of the unsolved mysteries. One of his ancestors, who was now a portrait hidden somewhere in the Manor, had told him once that you simply knew when a chosen being stood in front of you. They were different. Then why wasn't Draco?

"But...is that really a good idea?"

The calculating voice of his father could be heard, interrupting his son's thoughts abruptly. Startled by that, the boy had almost stumbled over the vase behind him.

Just in time, he managed to get a grip over himself. With a constriced chest, he dared to approach the door, which wasn't fully closed, and took a peek inside. Although the lamb on the desk served as source of light, it was painfully dark inside. On the carpet, Nagini, the biggest snake Draco had ever seen, was taking a nap. She hissed softly every once in a while.

"Do you distrust my plan?" a cold voice replied.

"No...But when it comes to that boy, things never seem to go like planned."

,That boy' could only be Potter. His father always had that certain angry tone when he spoke about him. So they were plotting to defeat the boy-who-lived once and for all?

"This time, everything is flawless. While Dumbledore loses his greatest weapon, we gain an advantage that we can use to turn the masses against the light side."

"...As you wish..." His father sounded resigned, like he normally only did when his wife wanted another expensive robe or jewel to add to her collection.

"Let's talk about the details later...Right now, there is a person standing outside listening to our every word. I wonder why some people can't keep their curiosity in check?"

Before Draco could escape, the door opened soundlessly. Grey met with red. And the blonde's heartbeat stopped for a second. Now, he was at the mercy of the beast.

xxx

The night was pitch black. Even the streetlights did not manage to lighten the darkness surrounding them. It was late summer and already bitterly cold. Not that anyone bothered to go out and take a walk outside at midnight anyway, all but one.

If anyone would have looked outside at the right time, they would have seen him, a stranger in this street. Sharp, intelligent eyes flashed for a moment, before they were hidden by darkness again.

With pliant steps, the man continued his journey to a particular house. It lay in a peaceful, proper and totally normal neighbourhood. Too bad that soon, it wouldn't be so ordinary anymore. Although this dark-haired male was the only one who knew that at the moment.

Finally, he had reached his goal. A nice-looking house, not too pompous, not too miserable, an exact copy of all the houses here.

"So...this is Private Drive Number Four, huh?"

His thoughtful gaze was directed to the only room in which the light was still on, standing out in the blackness. With one more look, the stranger turned around, disappearing without a trace. And the little plopping sound he made when vanishing no one heard.

**tbc...**

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This being my first story may not excuse that it needs much work, but it excuses why I'm now begging you for reviews. Any constructive criticism, ideas, wishes are more than welcome. If you've read until this point, please take the time to write one. Thanks!


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